The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1887-12-14
come the moment Miss Eliza went away

| muCn the Sallle anu leducu OfCi euc
fence to pat my head, telling me would
come out all ri ght some day, and san
her eyes were full of tears.
can see yet, little, straight figure
in black gown, lace kerchicf pinned
| about her neck with brooch of George
Washington, small shoulder shawl over
this, white lace cap over brown frock,
bright blue eyes, and on her soft wrink.
led cheeks the prctticst pink flush.
remember her coming with big red
reony and pushing it hurriedly through
the fcncc before Eliza saw her. She told
me once..that long years past she had lit
tie girl like me--prcttier, she added, but
a gentle little thing. and she and her
father, Captain Allen, the gravestone
said, had been buried nearly fifty years.
In one of my tramps across her land
found the small wallcd-in graveyard:where
they were buried and read the slate tomb
stones. and remember I flung myself on
the ground beside them and wept bit
terly that they were dead. A pitiful lit
tie mourner, but my grief was very true
and real. Once Mrs. Allen handed me a
piece of pretty lowered silk, telling me
it was scrap of her wedding gown, and
how l treasured that,
The Christmas day was going to tell
you about was when | was ten yeurs old.
After dinner the Beaches had taken the
children and gone to funeral in the
village. leaving me alone in the hou:e. /
saw Miss Eliza and the hired man drive
away TO the same funeral-some farmer
everybody knew-and then l locked the
door, hid they key under the mat and
crept out to the road No one in sight !!
went along in the snow, shawl over
my head, though the air was fcarful!y
cold, and in my shivering hands held
something wrapped in my cleancst
apron.
The big, white house with the pillars
in front like a church was silent and
lifelcss. The flowers were dead and I
had not seen Mrs. Allen all winter. I
onened the hall door softly and for the
first time in my life stood on carpet.
The hall, with the pictures, the wind
ing stairs, the oak chairs and the carpet,
was like falryland to me. l listened; to
the right behind one of the brass
knobbed doors I heard the cracking of
a wood fire. I opened the door softly
and went in. Mrs. Allen was sitting
before an open fire of big logs all sur
rounded by brass Tenders and shining
andi,ons, and this room had soft floor,
too, and beautiful pictures and furniture.
She was knitting, an open Bible on the
table near her.
"Why, little girl, how you scared
mel" she said.
"I-I've brought you Chris'mus," I
stammrred. "You was kind to me; I
wanted to thank you for the flowers an
all, an there isn't any Christmas over
ter Bcach's. It's all got honest, for Mis-
Beach give ME the kaliker an the silk
was yourn. I give it back TO you though
the silk was yourn an set store by it,
but us Rices always gives up our best
things for presents.
took out of my apron a queer little
pincushion, the top made of her silk, the
bottom of the calico. had filled it with
the cleane.t feathers I could find from
the dead chickens and hens, and oh ! how
painfully I had sewed every stitch with
rusty needle and rotten thread. She
laid her spcctacles off to wipe her eyes and
kissed me twice. Then she put the cush-
ion carefully in the drawer of an old
desk, smoothing it and patting it into
shape first. Then she brought me
piece of the best cake ever ate. After
few moments, during which she had been
locking at gilt clock under glass
shade on the mantel she put a shaw. over
her head and went up stairs. She cau-
toned me not to touch anything and not
to leave my chair, but she knew | was
well behaved and l needn't Re afraid of
Miss Eliza, for she would not come for
three hours. So sat all alone in the
enchanted room for long, long time. I
got up once and put a stick of wood on
the fire and remember I swept up the
ashes made nn the hearth w:th little
brush hanging near and trcmL.Cd at my
daring. told her when she came back,
but she only said "Good child
1t must have been cold up stairs where
had heard her walking, for her hands
were rcd and trembling. S! c warmed
them at the fire and then held out pref
ty shell. "Would you like that, little
Jane"
looked at 1t wistfully, holding it very
carefully. 81 would" l answered, "but
would feel I oughter give it to the
Beaches next Christmas an they would
soon smash it. It's US Rices' ways an I
couldn't keep it, but thank ye, marin,
jest the same" My lips quivered as l
gave it back.
;sPoor Jane" she smiled. "Well,
here's doll l made you when I was up
stairs" She handed me big rag doll
half as large as myself. 1t was hurriedly
dressed and the face, made with blue
chalk, was smir@hcd.
"I want you to keep that always" said
Mrs. Allen. Don't let the children
Rave it. I put old rags on it so Mrs.
Beach would not take it away from you.
H de it in your place in the hay-loft, and
if yol bring il to me next Christmas day
as clean and nice as it is to-day--mind
YOU do not hurt nor soil q spcck-you
shall hve a gold dollar for your own"
All. how pleased ] was! The Beach
children hatred rag dolls. They had
wooden ones, bought at the stores, so
this treasure could keep. Up in the
havmow l could have friend and conf
dant. thanked Mrs. Allen and she
ki.s:d ME again and held the door open
til | was safe across the dark hall. Then
l raj home, hid my treasure away up in
Il far corner of the old barn, where it
stayed unmo!csted, for only co"ld crawl
out on the narrow beam to the place
where piece of timber protrudcd and